


The Different Faces of Love

by Rose_SK



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Eskel (The Witcher), Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff and Smut, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jealous Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Lace Panties, M/M, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Possessive Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Recreational Drug Use, Rough Oral Sex, Smut, Switch Jaskier | Dandelion, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Top Lambert (The Witcher)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:07:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25245139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_SK/pseuds/Rose_SK
Summary: Geralt allows Jaskier to sleep with Eskel and Lambert on occasion, but at the end of the day Jaskier always comes back to Geralt.ORGratuitous polyamorous smut with a healthy dose of Geraskier feels.
Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Comments: 9
Kudos: 196





	The Different Faces of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Pfew, haven't written smut in ages so I thought I'd practice it again. I hope you guys like it.

When Jaskier agreed to spend the night with Lambert in the witcher’s bed, the bard would usually add sandalwood to his bath because he knew the smell drove Lambert crazy. This time was no different. As soon as Jaskier stepped into the dimly lit room, Lambert pounced on him like a predator on his prey, instantly burying his nose in the crook of Jaskier’s neck and inhaling the musky scent. A guttural groan pushed past the witcher’s lips as he pulled the bard possessively to his chest.

“You smell heavenly, as usual, little songbird,” he breathed huskily in Jaskier’s ear, the action sending a shiver coursing through his body as rough calloused hands began undressing Jaskier. Lambert never lingered on any inch of skin, nor did he take the time to explore the familiar territory of Jaskier’s body. Jaskier knew how impatient Lambert was with clothing. For this very reason, Jaskier decided earlier that evening to wear nothing but his grey shirt revealing his hairy chest, and black breeches which he had laced loosely at the side. Lambert had a tendency to simply tear off items of clothing that resisted him for too long, so understandable Jaskier refused to turn up to the witcher’s room wearing his best attire. Lambert made quick work of Jaskier’s clothing, leaving the bard standing naked as the day he was born in the middle of the room while the witcher was still fully clothed. Lambert enjoyed feeling totally in control and Jaskier usually indulged Lambert’s fantasies… except on those occasions when he didn’t.

“Get on the bed, on your hands and knees, now,” Lambert ordered, his impatience evident in his tone. Jaskier grinned cheekily before turning around, casting a wink over his shoulder at Lambert, and walking towards the bed at a snail’s pace while swaying his hips seductively. The bard’s actions earned him a warning growl from Lambert. “Don’t fucking tease me, bard. Bed, now!”

Strike number one. Lambert’s tone was snippy, leaving no room for argument, and Jaskier should have known better than to test his limits by challenging his lover’s authority. Only Jaskier also knew that Lambert enjoyed the bard’s defying attitude. He liked that Jaskier did not submit easily, that he did not give up without a fight. For Lambert, it was all about taming Jaskier’s fiery spirit until the bard was putty in his hands. Although Jaskier knew that sometimes he had to tread carefully when Lambert was in a testy mood, like it was the case tonight. The witcher was known for his short temper after all. He was known to get particularly rough when things did not go his way. Jaskier once ended up bound to the four posts of Lambert’s bed, his wrists and ankles tied securely with thick rope while Lambert teased Jaskier’s weeping cock to the brink of orgasm, which the witcher then denied him. The only time Jaskier had known Lambert to be patient… to Jaskier’s detriment. He had learned his lesson, although sometimes the bard still considered misbehaving to coax Lambert into punishing him for his impertinence. Oh, but what sweet punishment Lambert always gave him.

Jaskier loved pushing his luck with dominating lovers, and especially with Lambert. There was nothing soft or tender about the way Lambert fucked him. It was animalistic, raw, passionate and rough, and Jaskier loved every minute he spent in the witcher’s bed.

“What’s the rush, master witcher? We have all night, after all…,” Jaskier teased in a sultry voice, knowing that Lambert got off being called master, sir or any nickname indicating that he was the one in charge. Lambert’s eyes narrowed when Jaskier once again refused to obey his very command, but the tent in his breeches twitched as the bard’s insubordination went straight to the witcher’s cock. His yellow eyes were fixated on Jaskier, a dangerous glint in them as he took several steps towards the bed. Jaskier licked his lips in anticipation, feeling his own dick react to the dark expression he saw reflected on his lover’s face. No words were needed. This was Jaskier’s last warning to do as he was told. Finally, the bard complied. He assumed the desired position on his hand and knees, daring a look over his shoulder at Lambert who was staring at his arse hungrily. The warm furs on Lambert’s bed tickled Jaskier’s bare skin. Lambert’s bed was undoubtedly the most comfortable bed in the keep, mostly because whenever Jaskier was allowed to stay until morning he could wrap himself up in the many furs and covers and rest his head on the down pillows. Lambert was a man of few luxuries, but he was known to spend a small fortune to assure his personal comfort, both at Kaer Morhen and the Path.

“Like what you see, master witcher?”

“Mmh… you’re quite a sight. I don’t think I’ve seen a prettier sight in the many brothels I’ve visited during my time,” Lambert complimented, and Jaskier faked indignation at the witcher’s words.

“Is that what I am to you? Nothing but a common whore?” Jaskier questioned. A small yelp pushed past his lips when Lambert’s hand came down on his butt cheek, the sharp slap echoing against the cold stone walls of Lambert’s room. Jaskier let out a small whine.

“You certainly sing like one, little songbird. And what music you make.”

Lambert’s words were followed by a quick succession of spanks, each causing Jaskier’s cock to twitch and leak obscenely. He briefly wondered if Lambert would let him come tonight. The witcher was usually a selfish lover, but Jaskier rarely found it in himself to complain. He did not come to Lambert to be pampered, but to be fucked within an inch of his life. Often that meant taking whatever Lambert was willing to give. The witcher was at times more generous, and at times the bard had to finish the job himself while Lambert watched him lazily from the bed, but he always left Jaskier satisfied. 

“You love being at my mercy, don’t you little bird?”

“I can live with it,” said Jaskier, a small grin appearing on his lips which he knew Lambert could not see. His petulance was met with a strong hand to his throat. Lambert did not squeeze, and yet his meaning was crystal clear. Jaskier was on thin fucking ice.

“How about you put that cheeky mouth of yours to good use?”

Before Jaskier could reply, Lambert pulled back and roughly unlaced his breeches with one hand while the other grabbed a handful of Jaskier’s hair in a punishing grip. The witcher aligned his cock with Jaskier’s mouth and pushed past the bard’s lips, burying his shaft down to the hilt. Jaskier felt the tip of Lambert’s cock tickle the back of his throat. He forced the muscles in his throat to relax, fighting the gagging reflex. The action pulled a guttural moan from Lambert, who then threw his head back and closed his eyes as Jaskier’s tongue travelled along the length of his shaft. Lambert’s grip made it impossible for Jaskier to move his head. He was unable to breathe properly and the air reserves in his lungs were running low. Lambert grinned dangerously as he watched Jaskier struggle for air around his cock. The witcher’s other hand, which until this point had been busy massaging his balls, came to rest on Jaskier’s cheek. Lambert’s thumb wiped the tear running down Jaskier’s puffed up cheek.

“So pretty like this… How I’m glad Geralt agreed to share his precious little bard.” Lambert finally took pity on Jaskier and retracted his dick briefly, allowing the bard’s lungs to fill with air again. Jaskier coughed as he choked on his own spit in his haste. Lambert chuckled at the sight. His thumb and index pinched Jaskier’s chin and forced the bard’s head up so that his blue eyes met Lambert’s amber ones. “Tell me, my little songbird… do you ever think of me when you’re with him?”

“Do you think of me when you’re with Aiden?” the bard retorted, this time not let the witcher bully him into looking away.

“You’re a right little brat this evening, aren’t you?” Lambert mused all the while forcefully sticking his cock down Jaskier’s throat once again. The bard scraped his teeth along the witcher’s shaft, never breaking eye contact. Lambert hissed, his fingers pulling at Jaskier’s hair. Strike number two. Jaskier soothingly massaged Lambert’s cock with his tongue before hollowing his cheeks and sucking like his life depended on it. Lambert’s eyes shut again as he succumbed to the ministrations, his fingers finally letting go of Jaskier’s hair. The bard brought the witcher to the brink of orgasm, and when Jaskier realised that Lambert was close he pulled away and focused his attention on the tip of Lambert’s shaft. The witcher’s breath hitched when Jaskier’s tongue teased him relentlessly, and although Lambert briefly indulged in the ministrations, he suddenly decided to pull away and pump his throbbing cock rapidly. Jaskier knew what was coming and he greedily opened his mouth, ready to catch Lambert’s release when the witcher finally came undone. The bard did not have to wait long before long white streaks shot out of Lambert’s cock and landed on Jaskier’s hair, face and clavicle. Lambert shook with the intensity of his orgasm, deep-throated moans breaking the silence in the room as he lazily rode out his orgasm. His thumb teased the reddened tip of his cock as he watched Jaskier catch the wayward drops of semen with his tongue. Noticing Lambert’s lust blown eyes on him, the bard grinned devilishly up at the witcher.

“Mmh, I maintain what I said earlier… the prettiest whore in all the lands,” Lambert praised. With his thumb the witcher gathered some of his release that Jaskier’s tongue did not reach before bringing his digit to the bard’s lips. Jaskier obediently licked Lambert’s finger clean, which earned him a pleased purr from his lover. “Now put on a show for me, little songbird. I want to see if you can dance as well as you can sing.”

Jaskier eagerly showed off his best dance moves to Lambert for the remainder of the evening.

000

When Eskel ran into Jaskier on his way to training asking if the bard was free that evening, Jaskier could barely contain his excitement. Eskel, unlike Lambert, was not shy to show Jaskier just how much he was looking forward to his alone time with the bard. Jaskier welcomed the witcher’s openness and returned the warm smile he saw on Eskel’s handsome face.

“Eskel you know I’ll always make time for you,” Jaskier flirted in a velvety voice, looking up at Eskel through his long lashes. Eskel grinned, the scar tissue adorning his face stretching with the action. Before he could stop himself, Jaskier’s came to rest on the side of Eskel’s face. In a barely noticeable movement, the witcher leaned into the touch briefly before pulling way. Although more in touch with his emotions than the other witchers at Kaer Morhen, Eskel was still not entirely comfortable with public displays of affection.

“Don’t bathe before coming to my room. I’ll draw us a bath,” Eskel whispered in Jaskier’s ear. The bard leaned into the witcher’s warmth, playfully nipping the tender skin where neck and clavicle met.

“You spoil me, my handsome witcher. Do tell me, do you still have some of that fisstech we enjoyed the last time? I will never forget the feeling it gave me… like I was flying on the back of a fire-breathing dragon,” Jaskier recalled fondly which pulled a deep-throated chuckle from Eskel who snaked an arm around the bard’s hips and pulled him closer.

“Luckily for you, bard, I kept some in case you decided to spend another night in my bed. I recall that they helped you relax the last time…”

“Perhaps this time it will be _you_ who will benefit from it, then. You look awfully tense… I will take care of you tonight,” Jaskier offered, one eyebrow raised suggestively as he closely observed Eskel’s reaction. Thankfully, the witcher was very adventurous sexually and did not shy away from the bard’s implication. Jaskier figured that Eskel would not mind being on the receiving end of the love-making for a change.

“Who am I to pass up an offer like this?” Eskel agreed with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The witcher squeezed Jaskier’s hip firmly before pulling away and heading to the training grounds, leaving Jaskier to get ready for the evening.

That night, when Jaskier stepped into Eskel’s room, he was met with the sight of a steaming bath next to the roaring flames in the fireplace. The soothing smell of chamomile mingled with notes of hyacinth invaded Jaskier’s nostrils. Eskel would never cease to surprise him. The shelves on the walls were lined with books and various memorabilia that Eskel had collected over the years. Unlike Lambert who displayed his trophies ostentatiously, Eskel was more humble about his accomplishments and had merely kept the head of the first wyvern he had slain. Jaskier’s eyes briefly lingered on the inviting tub, but the sight of a fully naked Eskel caught his attention even more. The bard’s cock twitched in interest when he noticed that Eskel was already half-hard.

“Well, well, my handsome Eskel, you’re not wasting any time tonight,” Jaskier remarked huskily, his fingers already working on unbuttoning his nice doublet. He purposefully kept his movements slow and controlled, making sure to give Eskel a good show. The witcher took a seat on a wooden chair that realistically should not have been able to bear Eskel’s weight, but somehow did not break under the pressure.

“Is that rouge I can see on your lips and cheeks? And charcoal under your eyes?” Eskel asked, and Jaskier could tell the idea of him dolling up for Eskel turned the witcher on.

“Mhm… do you like it?”

“Do I? How about you finish your little show, come over here and find out just how much I like it…,” Eskel’s deep voice went straight to Jaskier’s cock and pulled a wanton moan from the bard who loved how open minded Eskel was about this part of Jaskier’s personality. Amber eyes watched intently as Jaskier undressed seductively, removing layer after layer, and revealing his body in all its glory. Both men were hard by the time Jaskier finished his performance.

“It is a bit chilly in here… how about we jump in the hot bath?” Jaskier suggested. Eskel allowed his eyes to roam over Jaskier’s pleasing body one more time before acknowledging the bard’s words.

“Come here,” was Eskel’s response. The witcher reached for a small wooden box on the table which, Jaskier knew, contained the witcher’s personal stash of fisstech. The bard went to kneel before the small table cluttered with various books and maps, and watched as the witcher prepared four thick lines of fisstech for himself. Eskel shot Jaskier a side glance, a small grin appearing on his lips.

“Fisstech is rather pricey. What makes you think I’ll let you have any of it for free?”

“Oh, I can think of ways to repay you…,” Jaskier licked his red lips and shifted closer to Eskel to place open-mouthed kisses on the witcher’s thighs. The rouge did not budge as Jaskier’s lips travelled up until they reached Eskel’s hard cock which arched upwards and touched his hard abs. Jaskier licked the pulsing shaft from base to tip, making sure to meet Eskel’s hungry eyes. The witcher groaned appreciatively.

“Hmm… we might be able to come to an arrangement,” Eskel agreed before leaning over the table and sniffing all lines of fisstech in quick succession. Jaskier continued teasing the witcher’s cock while Eskel prepared two thin lines for Jaskier. Only two though, because sweet, sweet Eskel thought that Jaskier’s fragile human body could not handle any more. Jaskier found the gesture too endearing to complain. The witcher’s large hand gently petted Jaskier’s head as the bard continued teasing his cock, gently tugging at Jaskier’s hair to get his attention. The bard understood and instantly pulled away from Eskel, not without a final teasing lick at the pink tip and leaving behind a red trail of lipstick. Jaskier then obediently sniffed his lines of fisstech.

“Shall we get cosy in this heavenly bath you drew for us?”

“Hmm, I wish I could keep the marks you left on my cock a little longer… maybe next time we meet you can wear that rouge again,” Eskel suggested before standing up and following Jaskier into the steaming water. As soon as the witcher had settled at one end of the wooden tub Jaskier shifted forward until he was sitting on Eskel’s lap and locking their lips in a passionate kiss. Eskel’s tongue slid into Jaskier’s mouth while his hand rested at the back of the bard’s head as the witcher deepened the kiss. It was Jaskier who pulled away first, flashing Eskel a playful smile.

“I have to admit, seeing my rouge on your lips turns me on something stupid,” Jaskier admitted in a husky voice, which made Eskel chuckle deeply in his throat. “Maybe next time _you_ should be the one to wear it…”

“I’ll think about it,” Eskel promised before locking their lips into yet another kiss. Jaskier moaned sweetly as Eskel’s hands caressed every inch of skin, his movements hectic and impatient as the fisstech took effect. Jaskier guessed that the mutations dampened the effects somewhat, but Eskel had sniffed a healthy amount and considerably more than what he had allowed Jaskier to consume. Under normal circumstances, a witcher’s stamina was difficult to keep up with, but with the added effects of fisstech Jaskier was in for a long night. Not that he would complain. Without breaking the kiss, Jaskier reached his hand under the water and probed at Eskel’s entrance with two fingers. The witcher’s breath hitched at first, but soon enough Eskel spread his legs in an unspoken invitation for Jaskier to carry on. The bard placed a trail of kisses and bites along Eskel’s neck, clavicle and focused on the dark nipples which instantly perked up under his attention. Eskel’s arms rested at either side of the tub as he threw his head back, eyes closed and mouth slightly agape. Soft sighs escaped him as Jaskier’s fingers pushed past the ring of muscle and gently stretched the witcher with scissoring motions.

“Are you okay?”

Jaskier’s question seemed to amuse Eskel if his mocking grin was anything to go by.

“You won’t hurt me, sweet dove. I can assure you.”

Emboldened by Eskel’s words, Jaskier added two more fingers which earned him a sharp hiss from Eskel. The bard moved his fingers more slowly, allowing Eskel to adjust to the burn. He had asked for it, Jaskier reminded himself. Eskel’s pained groans soon turned more languid as he got used to Jaskier’s presence and began relaxing into the touch. Jaskier picked up the pace, drinking in the sight of Eskel moaning under his actions. The delicious sounds the witcher produced became more erratic as Jaskier found Eskel’s prostate. With every thrust of his fingers Jaskier tried to hit that sweet spot, and he knew when he did when Eskel jerked and his moans went up an octave or two.

“Fuck, Jaskier. If you don’t stop I’ll…”

“Come for me, my handsome Eskel. Come undone, show me how much you like what I’m doing to you,” Jaskier coaxed the witcher writhing under him. Eskel began moving his hips and meeting Jaskier’s thrusts, causing the water to splash around them and soak the floor around the tub. Neither men cared as Eskel gave into the sensations and his movements became more erratic as he came closer to his release. Jaskier teased the tip of Eskel’s cock, trying not to breathe in the water that was splashing in his face with the witcher’s movements. It did not take long for Eskel to come in Jaskier’s mouth. The bard lazily moved his fingers in Eskel as the latter rode out his orgasm and emptied himself in Jaskier’s mouth. The bard lapped up every last drop. 

“Fuck,” cursed Eskel under his breath, his eyes finally meeting Jaskier’s and a loving smile appeared on his face.

“Agreed. And this is just the beginning. I will ride you like a racehorse all night, my handsome witcher.”

“Mmmh… I’ve known you to be a smoother talker,” Eskel teased, and Jaskier merely flashed him a wicked smile.

“Like I said, this is only the beginning. Let me reapply some rouge.”

000

“You smell of them again,” Geralt’s baritone voice sent a delicious shiver coursing through Jaskier’s body. The witcher had crept up behind Jaskier and wrapped a hand around Jaskier’s throat, his lips pressed close to the bard’s ear. The possessive undertone aroused the bard more than was appropriate in a semi-public setting. Geralt’s free arm was wrapped around Jaskier’s middle and pulled him against a firm body and stirring crotch as if Jaskier weighed nothing at all.

“Say the word Geralt, my love… and we can put an end to this arrangement. I’ll never share their beds again.”

Geralt hesitated, albeit briefly. He hummed pensively as he nibbled his bard’s earlobe before leaving faint bite marks and love bites just behind Jaskier’s ear. Geralt liked to mark his bard and Jaskier would always wear them with pride. Jaskier did not let Lambert or Eskel mark him, that privilege was exclusively reserved for Geralt. That had been one condition the white-haired witched had voiced when Jaskier had suggested this arrangement. Geralt was allowed to go back on their arrangement at any point and yet, he did not seem willing to do so.

“Meet me tonight. I want you all to myself this week coming,” said Geralt, and Jaskier knew this was not a request but a demand. Jaskier nodded and turned around in the embrace to place a loving kiss on Geralt’s lips. The witcher hummed at the gesture, leaning his forehead against Jaskier’s and closing his eyes as he enjoyed holding his bard in the safety of his arms. “Eskel said you wore lipstick for him… why have you never worn any for me?”

Jaskier suddenly felt his throat constrict making it difficult to swallow. He looked into the depth of Geralt’s golden pools, noticing no animosity or anger but _hurt_ which was almost worse. Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s hips and rested his head on the witcher’s shoulder so he could whisper in his ear.

“I was worried you would find it weird. I can live with Eskel turning me down for it, but you? I couldn’t bear it. I wanted to try it for a while and… I’m sorry, my love.”

“Shh,” Geralt soothed Jaskier as soon as his enhanced senses picked up on the racing heart, “you’re forgiven. Wear it for me tonight, and only for me from now on. Agreed?”

“Yes, dear heart. I promise you.”

That night, before meeting Geralt in his room, Jaskier used a mixture of yarrow and lavender oil in his bath. He knew those were Geralt’s favourite. Jaskier then applied a more vibrant rouge to his lips and cheeks, wanting to leave a lasting memory of the colour in Geralt’s mind. Geralt, his love, the man Jaskier would always gravitate back to no matter how satisfying the sex with Eskel and Lambert was. At the end of the day, it was always Geralt and it would always be him. Jaskier was meant to meet his love in his room, which was once again entirely different to his brother’s. Geralt liked to display his weapons and armour pieces that were too worn to still be of use, and there were some books on the shelves but not nearly as many as Eskel. There were some trophies, but not nearly as many as on Lambert’s walls. What distinguished Geralt from his brother was the one wall covered in children’s drawings, dried flowers and other personal items that contract issuers and their families had given him as thank you for his services. Of course Geralt asked for payment in form of coin like any other witcher, but Jaskier had not expected any of them to keep hold of tangible memories of their contracts and display them quite in the same way Geralt did. In addition to all these souvenirs, Geralt always nailed Ciri’s letters to his wall and even some of Jaskier’s poems and songs (although Jaskier had discovered these by chance one day when he was snooping). He never mentioned to Geralt that he knew.

When Jaskier reached Geralt’s door, he did not bother to knock. He stepped into the room, noticing the absence of a fire as he instantly started shivering in the chilly room. Geralt was onto him as soon as Jaskier stepped inside the room, wearing nothing but his small clothes and yet the witcher’s skin was warm to the touch. Jaskier instantly huddled closer, loving the way Geralt’s strong arms wrapped around his shivering frame.

“What is your problem with fires?”

“Mmh, sorry,” Geralt apologised, and after a quick casting of the sign Igni, the hearth roared with flames which would yet take a while to heat the cold room up. Before Jaskier could thank his love, Geralt caught the bard’s red lips in a bruising kiss.

“Mmmh, dear heart, you’ll ruin my rouge,” Jaskier teased, a cheeky smile stretching across his face as Geralt growled warningly. Jaskier knew exactly what this growl meant. _Not today. Not now._

“Get out of these ridiculous clothes,” Geralt ordered, his dilated pupils shimmering with unrestrained lust. Jaskier guffawed in indignation.

“These _ridiculous clothes_ cost me an arm and a leg, and I only ever wear them for special occasions, you brute!”

“Don’t care, Jaskier. Take them off, or I’ll cut them off,” Geralt rasped. Jaskier huffed but complied nonetheless. After all, that was the only way he could show off the little surprise he had prepared for Geralt. While the witcher was too busy ravishing Jaskier’s mouth, he almost did not notice the lovely lace underwear that the bard had slipped into. Jaskier had to push Geralt away, which in itself was no easy task especially when the witcher seemed too buy claiming the bard as his all over again. With an irritated groan, Geralt took several steps back and admired his lover for the first time since Jaskier stepped into the room. Geralt’s eyes widened as he took in the sight. Jaskier wore black garters made of Novigrad’s finest lace, and panties made of the same material that showed off Jaskier’s semi-erect cock beautifully. An animalistic sound escaped Geralt, and Jaskier thought he could come on the spot. Seeing how he drove Geralt crazy turned him on _oh so very much_.

“No one has ever seen me wearing these, my wolf. These,” Jaskier motioned at the panties and garters, “are for your eyes only.”

“Fuck.”

“I hope you’re enjoying the view, dear heart. I have more… different colours, too. You can pick your favourite, and I will wear it. Under my regular clothes too, if that’s what you want. It’ll be our little secret,” Jaskier said in a sultry voice, wanting nothing more than to feel Geralt’s touch once again. Thankfully, he did not have to wait long for his desires to be satisfied. Geralt pulled him close and dragged him to the bed, tossing him on the mattress and pulling the panties off. Jaskier was surprised they did not snap. To the bard’s surprise, the witcher kept the garters exactly where they were.

“You’re mine, Jaskier. Say it!”

“I’m yours, dear heart,” Jaskier obeyed, pouring all his love in that one statement.

“Again,” Geralt ordered, reaching for the vial of oil he kept in the drawer of the bedside table and coating his fingers and dick with a healthy amount. Jaskier knew there would not be much preparation involved, but he also knew he would take whatever Geralt gave him.

“I’m yours, only yours, dear heart,” the bard repeated, and he would sing it to the heavens if Geralt so wished. Jaskier’s breath hitched as Geralt thrust two fingers in his entrance and began roughly working the ring of muscles.

“Say it, louder!”

“Geralt, my wolf,” Jaskier said, loud enough that his words echoed against the walls, “Geralt, I am yours. I’m always yours.”

“Yes, you are,” Geralt concurred, adding another finger and picking up the pace, “I will make you sing my name, my pretty little bard. I will make you scream my name so loud everyone in the keep will hear you. Everyone will hear that only I can make you scream to the top of your lungs.”

“Oh my wolf, please…. Please….,” Jaskier pleaded, although he was not too sure what he was begging for.

“Listen to you, begging for my cock. You only beg for my cock, don’t you sweet bard? Because only my cock can fully satisfy you. Look the way you’re squirming as you’re fucking my fingers. Damn, Jaskier!” Geralt retracted his fingers and positioned his dick at Jaskier’s entrance, penetrating his lover in a single thrust and pulling a loud whine from Jaskier which was both pain and pleasure. Although when Geralt started moving, the pain faded away and the bard was moaning Geralt’s name over and over again, like a prayer. Jaskier could not say much more beyond screaming his lover’s name.

“My life… my love… please, Geralt, don’t stop… never stop!”

“Do you want to come, sweet lark? Come for me, show me how much you crave my cock.”

After several well positioned thrusts which hit Jaskier’s prostate each time, the bard came harder than he had in a while, painting Geralt’s body with his release. Geralt chased his own orgasm, his hips adopting a furious pace as he hammered into his lover, loud groans filling the room and covering the sound of Jaskier’s weak whimpers of pleasure. Geralt’s come coated Jaskier’s walls, the witcher’s cock twitching as Jaskier’s muscles pulsed with the aftermath of his pleasure. Geralt dropped limply on top of his lover, his now limp cock falling out of Jaskier’s gaping hole. Soft lips kissed the side of Geralt’s face while Jaskier’s hands raked through his silver hair damp with sweat.

“It’s you, dear heart. It’s always been you. It will always be you.”

Geralt tightened his hold on his bard possessively as a satisfied hum rumbled in his chest.

“Sleep. You’ll need all your strength for what I have in store for you,” Geralt mumbled sleepily and Jaskier grinned devilishly.

“This, dear heart, better be a promise.”

_THE END._

**Author's Note:**

> Flower symbolisms (for those that are interested):
> 
> Oak: Strength
> 
> Chamomile: patience  
> Hyacinth: playfulness
> 
> Lavender: loyalty  
> Yarrow: everlasting love


End file.
